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Parsha Perspectives: Ha’azinu-The Greatest Song of All

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“האזינו השמים ואדברה ותשמע הארץ אמרי פי”

“Listen, O heavens, and I will speak! And let the earth hear the words of my mouth!” (Devorim 32:1)

People relate to music in different ways. Some enjoy slow, melodic tunes which create the inner space for contemplation and introspection. Others enjoy upbeat and fast paced music which allows for a sense of simcha and excitement. Parshas Ha’azinu contains Moshe Rabbeinu’s shira (song).  But this song is neither slow nor fast, instead it is a song of testimony.

As the nation prepares to enter the Land of Israel, Moshe has important information and direction he must share. In this song of Ha’azinu, Moshe reminds the people of their responsibilities to themselves, their nation and their God. The shira is filled with both joy and sadness. Joy over the beautiful connection we have with our Father, and sadness as there are times when we leave, forsake and abandon Him. Despite the valleys and low points of the relationship, our collective heart is always with Hashem and we know that His Divine heart is always with us. The Maharal of Prague and the Maggid of Mezeritch stress the importance of reciting the song of Ha’azinu and knowing it by heart, “for it purifies the mind and heart ….”

Shira is not simply a song, it is one of the most pure and beautiful expressions of love, devotion and commitment. Henry Giles, an English preacher in the mid-1800’s, wrote: “A song will outlive all sermons in the memory.” When there is a need to express something more profound than the simple meaning of spoken words, shira begins where words end.

Why did Moshe choose to deliver his last messages in the form of a shira?

Rabbi Aharon Soloveitchik of blessed memory, in his comments on Shiras HaYam (the song recited by the nation of Israel upon crossing the Red Sea), explains: “Shira is appropriate only when one attains a victory—and to be a victor one must actively participate in the struggle” (The Warmth and the Light, Feldheim, p. 129).

Shira can only be sung when one has accomplished something of epic proportions. Shira is the melodic culmination of man’s work, toil and struggle to accomplish a particular goal. In order to cross the sea, the people had to summon incredible inner strength and belief in themselves and God. After walking into the roaring waves and emerging on the other side they sang shira reflecting their incredible spiritual accomplishment.

Perhaps this is why Moshe chose to conclude his life and begin the next chapter of the Jewish narrative with shira. Moshe told the people: My children, you have triumphed. There were times during our forty-year journey when it looked as if we would not make it. There were times when you wanted to give up; there were times when I felt I could not go on. But you persevered, we persevered, and we stand just mere steps away from the realization of our destiny. You have made it this far, and I know that you can be successful in the future. My happiness and pride are so great that I cannot capture it in words. I choose to express it in shira.

As we stand on the brink of a new year, there are many uncertainties. But one thing is certain: we will face challenges. There will be both national and individual hurdles and obstacles we must traverse. May we find the strength to embrace and overcome our challenges. May we merit to lead lives of spiritual accomplishment. May we find the courage to create the melodic notes of our personal shira.

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Parsha Perspectives: Vayelech/Yom Kippur – Start Dreaming

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If there is one prayer that resonates in the heart of every Jew it is Kol Nidrei. The very tune is haunting yet enchanting, saddening yet uplifting. Yet, when one looks at the words – they seem to be anything but inspirational. Kol Nidrei is a form of Hataras Nedorim, revocation of vows. We begin the holiest day of the year by releasing ourselves from the vows of the past and proactively annulling the vows of the future. On a legal level this is very important as violating one’s vow is considered a severe transgression. We do whatever we can to repent and absolve ourselves of sin as we enter this sacred day. And still, we find ourselves confounded by a basic question: of all the beautiful prayers we have in our liturgy, why begin the holiest day of the year with revocation of vows? There are many prayers with moving words, prayers that capture the true essence of Yom Kippur; prayers that speak to the theme of purity and repentance. Wouldn’t it be more appropriate to use some of these prayers as the liturgical introduction to this holy day? Why do we begin with Kol Nidrei? What is the message?

Perhaps, to answer this question we must strive to understand the purpose and power of a neder (vow). The paradigmatic neder is the Nazirite vow. A person takes a vow to abstain from wine and cutting his hair. The Nazir is forgoing certain physical pleasures and choosing to place less emphasis on his “self.” Why would a person do such a thing? The Rabbis explain – because deep down he knows he can be something more, deep down he knows he possesses greatness within but needs the proper framework to extract it. He needs to shift the focus from pleasure seeking to purpose seeking. Sometimes in life we need a push; we need some level of tension to actualize our potential. This is the neder – the binding promise which creates the framework to allow the individual to access his internal reservoir of potential.

To take this one step further, perhaps, the neder can be viewed as a personal aspiration or dream. I know where I am now, and I know where I need to be; the neder is the vehicle to help me bridge the gap. The neder creates a legal reality in which I must actively work to actualize my dream/aspiration. But there is a danger in dreaming – many dreams fail to materialize, many dreams come crashing down, many dreams end in disappointment. When one experiences too many failed dreams, one loses his resolve and courage to dream any more. It is too hard to leave oneself open to hurt and feelings of failure; better to live without dreams than to dream and fail.

This coming Tuesday night when we enter the hallowed sanctity of Yom Kippur, we reflect on last year and realize that many of the things we wanted to do, we didn’t. Many of the dreams we had remain unrealized or worse, ended in failure. And so, the first thing we do on this sacred day is revocation of vows, Hataras Nedorim – we let go of our failed dreams. We let go of the unrealized dreams of last year. We let go because we will not allow ourselves to be burdened by the yolk of failed dreams. Carrying around these failures can be stifling. We let go in order to dream anew.

This is our mandate over Yom Kippur – dream a new dream! Ask yourself, who do I want to be? What do I want my life to look like? What do I need to accomplish? We unburden ourselves in order to fill our hearts and souls with new, magnificent and holy dreams for the coming year.  There is no better, more appropriate way to start this special day than with the recitation of Kol Nidrei.

I hope and pray that we will each find the courage to dream a new dream. Let us hope that God sees the beauty in our dreams and gives us the strength to make them come true.

G’mar Chasima Tova and Good Shabbos

 

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Parsha Perspectives: Nitzavim/Rosh Hashanah – Breaking Through the Shell

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In one of his final addresses to the Jewish people, Moshe says,

“For this commandment which I command you this day, is not concealed from you, nor is it far away. It is not in heaven, that you should say, ‘Who will go up to heaven for us and fetch it for us, to tell [it] to us, so that we can fulfill it?’ Nor is it beyond the sea, that you should say, ‘Who will cross to the other side of the sea for us and fetch it for us, to tell [it] to us, so that we can fulfill it?’ Rather, [this] thing is very close to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart, so that you can fulfill it (Devorim 30:11-14).”

The commentaries are bothered by one simple question, “which commandment is Moshe referring to?”  Some explain that Moshe is actually referring to the Torah in its entirety. The Ramban (Nachmanidies, Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, 1194-1270) explains that Moshe Rabbeinu is referring to the mitzvah (commandment) of teshuva (repentance). Moshe is telling the people that the ability to return and reconnect with God is not beyond us. We do not require an intermediary, expert or someone more spiritually skilled to help re-forge and reinvigorate the bond with our Father Above. “Ki karov elecha haDavar miod, b’ficha, u’bilivavcha (this thing is very close to you, it is in your mouth and in your heart).”

Rav Avraham Tzukerman zt’l (Rosh Yeshiva Kfar HaRoeh) explains, “Ki mikora shel nishmas ha’adam hu mi’limala….V’ha’adam sho’eyf tamid lashuv l’mikoro (the source of man’s soul is above – in the celestial sphere – and he yearns perpetually to return to his source).”  The desire to return is innate. The desire to have a close connection and passionate relationship with God is woven in to the very fabric of our spiritual DNA. Although the body was fashioned from the earth, the soul comes from above and yearns to reconnect.

Rav Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook zt’l (1865-1935) offers a beautiful parable. When a chick is ready to hatch, it begins to slowly peck at the shell. When it makes the first hole it then begins to peck harder, ultimately thrusting its head through the small opening. How does the chick know that there is a whole world waiting on the outside? How does the chick know that what is on the other side of the shell is better than its current circumstances? “Elah zohi techushato ha’tiviit, ha’locheshet lo sod zeh (rather, this is its internal intuition and nature which whispers this secret).” Just as the chick instinctively knows what to do to get to a better place, the soul knows what to do to reconnect with God.

We often find ourselves encased by the shell of our reality. For some of us the shell is a result of decisions we made or did not make. For others the shell is a result of circumstances beyond one’s control. This life shell makes us feel removed and so distant from the Heavens above. Rosh Hashanah is the time to peck away at that which confines and limits us. Rosh Hashanah is a time to think beyond our shell and realize that there is a beautiful world with so much opportunity that awaits us. Rosh Hashanah is a time to realize that we can have a meaningful and passionate relationship with God. It is within reach. It is innate. It is possible. “It is very close to you.” Let us each find the strength to open our heart and allow our soul to go where it knows it needs to go.

I want to take this opportunity to wish each of you Kesiva V’Chasima Tova. May each of us, together with our families, and our nation, be inscribed for a year of growth, holiness, health, happiness and most importantly – redemption.

 

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Parsha Perspectives: Ki Tavo – Going and Coming

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“And it will be if you obey the Lord, your God, to observe and fulfill all His commandments which I command you this day, the Lord, your God, will place you supreme above all the nations of the earth…You shall be blessed when you come, and you shall be blessed when you depart.” (Devorim 28:1,6)

Moshe conveys a seemingly simple idea: do what God asks and in turn, God will take care of you. Heed the commandments, follow the rules, and God will bless you with financial prosperity and regional security. But what is the meaning of the last verse? What was Moshe referring to when he said that we will be blessed “when you come” and “when you depart?”

It is here that I would like to share with you three different approaches, which coalesce into a meaningful and important three-pronged lesson:

Rabbi Moshe Alshich (1508-1593) explains:

“You came into this world with nothing – yet, you felt blessed and happy. Your departure from this world should be the same.”

We often attribute our lack of happiness to something material which is missing. If I only I had this or that – I would be so much happier. Possessions are certainly wonderful and can make life more enjoyable, but they can’t create happiness. True happiness comes from within. True happiness is the state of being which occurs when you know you are living a meaningful life, making a difference and accomplishing what God put you on this world to do. We come into this world with nothing, yet, we manage to find happiness. The things we own don’t generate happiness, it is the intangibles within which create true simcha (joy).

Yonosson ben Uziel explains this phrase in a different way:

“You shall be blessed when you enter the Beis Midrash (study hall) and blessed when you go out to conduct business.”

We must take our spiritual ideals with us wherever we go. Whether you are in the Beis Midrash or in the Board Room, the same set of values must inform the way we live and the decisions we make. Torah and mitzvos don’t only provide guidance in the framework of our religious lives during moments of religious study and worship. God’s word affords us clarity and direction when going out into the world as well.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (1808-1888) adds an additional dimension of understanding:

“May you be blessed in your home life and may you find blessing in your communal life.”

We must take the personal blessings that God gives us and use them to enrich the lives of those around us. We can’t just live for ourselves. We must avoid the trap of egocentricity and self-centeredness. We must avoid the temptation to keep and use our blessings for ourselves and no one else. Whatever you have been given in life, find a way to share and give to those around you. Don’t wait to be asked to help – be proactive. If you see there is someone in need or something that needs to get done, roll up your sleeves and do it.

Our great prophet and teacher Moshe taught many life lessons, but it is in this week’s Parsha he shares with us perhaps, three of the most important ideas for successful living:

Lesson #1: Happiness doesn’t come from anything you can acquire – it only comes from a feeling of personal accomplishment and fulfillment.

Lesson #2: Take your spiritual values with you wherever you go in life and allow them to shape and inform your personal behavior wherever you may be.

Lesson #3:  Use your blessings for the benefit or your community and your people. Don’t live in a bubble, be ever cognizant and aware of how you can help the other.

These are the lessons our ancestors learned so many years ago and they are the lessons we must internalize today.

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Parsha Perspectives: Ki Teitzei – Tall Fences Make Good Neighbors

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“When you build a new house, you shall make a fence (guard-rail) for your roof, so that you shall not cause blood to be spilled in your house, that the one who falls should fall from it [the roof].” (Devorim 22:8)

We must learn to be vigilant. We must take great care to avoid harming or injuring a fellow Jew. We must even make sure that my property doesn’t pose a risk to the other. In Biblical times, roofs were often flat (as they were used to dry produce and for other related activities of daily living) and therefore, fences had to be constructed around one’s roof to ensure that no one would fall. On the most basic level, the Torah is instilling within us a heightened sensitivity for the other. We can’t harm with our words, our fists or our roof; we must be ever cognizant and aware of the safety and security of the other.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson 1902-1994) explains this verse as a metaphoric message:

“Ki sivneh bayis chadash, (when you build a new house)” – The home represents a new life initiative. When you embark upon something new …

“V’asisa maakeh l’gagecha, (you shall make a fence for your roof)” – You must set boundaries.  Just as the fence is the boundary for the roof, we must learn to make boundaries in life.

Life is filled with much new construction. We build new relationships and careers. We start new journeys and explore new possibilities. Whenever we start something new, we must learn to establish appropriate boundaries and erect the necessary fences. Our careers may thrust us into a world that does not share our values and ideals. The demands and expectations of the work force may put us in situations of spiritual and moral discomfort. What fences must be created to ensure that we don’t lose our spiritual identities while climbing the ladder of success? What can we each do to protect our personal holiness even while spending our days in environments which may not be conducive to personal growth?

Marriage requires a great deal of effort and attention. At times we take liberties with the dignity, honor or feelings of a beloved spouse. At times we do things which are hurtful, insensitive and demeaning. What fences do we need to create in our marriages to ensure that we are each behaving as a proper spouse, nurturing marital love and growth.

On a personal level, we are often bombarded by temptation and desire. What fences should we create for ourselves to ensure that we continue down the path of growth and not fall into the abyss of personalistic darkness?

In life, we are constantly embarking on new construction. We construct homes of careers, marriages and develop ourselves. Each of these beautiful homes require a fence.  It is the fences of self-discipline, moral clarity, spiritual motivation and desire for growth which ensure that which we build will be beautiful, fulfilling and safe for ourselves and for those whom we love.

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Parsha Perspectives: Shoftim -Teaching Trees

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“When you besiege a city for many days to wage war against it to capture it, you shall not destroy its trees by wielding an ax against them, for you may eat from them, but you shall not cut them down. Is the tree of the field a man, to go into the siege before you?” (Devorim 20:19)

Wars must be fought, and when the Jewish army fights, it must fight to win. Victory often comes with a heavy price; lives are lost, and resources destroyed. The Torah teaches that even in war, one cannot engage in wanton destruction. If the fruit trees are providing cover for the enemy, if they somehow pose a threat to the Jewish soldiers, they may be destroyed. But to destroy for the sake of punitive destruction is prohibited. God makes this point with a simple rhetorical question, “Is the tree of the field a man? Is the tree your combatant?  Is the tree your enemy?” Of course not – so don’t unleash your rage against an inanimate creation of God.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, 1902-1994) provides an additional insight.  The Rebbe explains that the verse can also be understood as a declarative statement, “Ki ha’Adam etz haSadeh (Man is like the tree of the field).” What similarity is there between the man and a tree? Man is the crown jewel of creation with the ability to speak, think and exercise free choice. The tree is inanimate and rooted in one place. Yet, man and tree share many commonalities.

Roots The tree has roots which enable it to draw nutrients from the ground. Man must learn to plant roots as well. Man must attach himself to Torah and the framework of spirituality in order to nourish his soul and grow. The deeper the roots, the more nutrients the tree can soak up. The stronger the connection to Torah and God, the more vitality one possesses. If the roots die, the tree may continue to look vital for some short period of time, but ultimately it will wither and die. If man doesn’t create roots, attach himself to the source, to God, Torah, our people – he may not wither and die but certainly will not flourish. Nourishing the roots ensures man and tree will blossom.

Fruit The greatest accomplishment for the tree is to produce fruit. Although a tree can be useful for shade or wood, the ability to produce fruit is a form of unparalleled vitality. Man must produce fruit as well. The fruit of man are his accomplishments. Every piece of Torah one learns is a fruit produced. Every act of kindness and charitable deed is another fruit which blossoms. Leading one’s family in the ways of our ancestors, inspiring others to grow and self-actualize; these are the beautiful fruits one can create. The fruit represent units of growth. The moment the fruit tree stops producing fruit is the moment it loses its purpose and meaning. The moment man stops producing the fruit of growth and accomplishment is the moment that life comes to an end. The success of one’s life is fundamentally measured by the fruit he produces.

Pruning Sometimes for the tree to grow stronger, one must cut off some of the branches. Dead or misshapen branches can impede on the future growth of the tree. We all have dead branches. These are the parts of our personality and lifestyle which are unhealthy and destructive. It can be difficult and at times painful to cut off branches, but if they’re not removed, the tree can’t grow. The farmer must know which branches to remove and which to leave. We must identify the personality and lifestyle branches which must be removed to allow the rest of our soul to grow.

We each have many teachers from whom we learn throughout our journey in this world. We learn from God, we learn from our Torah, we learn from great and righteous people and we learn from the trees. May we utilize these arboreal lessons to nurture our roots, produce beautiful fruit and find the courage to prune.

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Parsha Perspectives: Re’eh – The Choice

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“Behold, I set before you today a blessing and a curse.” (Devorim 11:26).

Life is filled with choices. From what we wear to what we eat to how we act, we must condition ourselves to think and choose wisely. This was the simple, yet profound message Moshe was conveying to our ancestors. There are blessings and curses. If you follow in the way of God, blessing awaits. If you ignore your spiritual responsibilities and engage in negative behaviors, there will be consequences. Each and every day these two paths are in front of us and we must choose which one to travel.

The great Chassidic master, Rebbe Nachman of Breslov (1772-1810) advances a slightly different interpretation:

“‘Behold, I set before you today a blessing and a curse;’ before ‘you,’ it is blessing and a curse, but from before God it is a simple light, simple letters and it is man who connects them together. If man is good, the combination (of the letters) yields blessing, and if not (if man is evil) then the opposite will occur (negative results). For before God there is no combination of the letters, there is no blessing or curse.”

(Likutei MoHaran 1:36)

From the cryptic words of the Rebbe emerge a life altering lesson. God delivers circumstances and it is up to us do decide if it will be a blessing or a curse. Everything God does is good, sometimes we see and understand the good and sometimes the good is obscured by difficulty, pain and suffering, but the result is always tov (good). Moshe Rabbeinu tells the people, “Re’eh anochi noseyn lifneychem ha’yom (see that I, God am placing life circumstances in front of you. You must now decide), beracha u’klalah, (will it be a blessing or a curse.)” More often than not, we don’t get to choose our circumstances, but we absolutely choose our disposition and attitude. We choose whether a particular life situation will be a beracha or a klala. Similarly, we each have strengths and abilities; they are neither good nor bad. They represent energy that God has given us, the nature of which will be determined by how they are used. This was the lesson Moshe was trying to teach us. Life is a series of choices. We must choose how to use our innate traits and abilities. We must choose how to channel the incredible strengths we possess. We must choose how to look at life. It is easy to see the good times as blessings but are we able to see the blessing in adversity? And even if we can’t see the blessing in our challenges, can we find the strength to believe that blessing is present and hopefully will one day be recognizable? These are the choices we must make today and every day.

This Shabbos is Rosh Chodesh Elul. The last month of the year 5779. This sacred month serves a dual role, it affords us the opportunity to end the current year with meaning and purpose while simultaneously paving the way for a successful and uplifting year ahead. There are things we promised ourselves to accomplish and aspects of our life and identity we pledged to change. Hopefully, we have made good on our promises, but if we haven’t, there is still time. There are challenges which can derail our dynamic activity and there are character flaws and negative traits which hold us back. As we enter this most opportunity-laden month let us remember the words of Moshe Rabbeinu. God gives us abilities and circumstances. It is up to us to use our kochos (strengths) for good and see the Divine blessing in every situation.

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Parsha Perspectives: Eiykev-Taming the Wild Beast

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“And it will be, because you will heed these ordinances and keep them and perform, that the Lord, your God, will keep for you the covenant and the kindness that He swore to your forefathers (Devorim 7:12).”

In the opening verse of this week’s Parsha, Moshe creates a simple paradigm – if we live up to the word of God, God will deliver on the promises He made to the Patriarchs. But for the fledging Jewish nation, more important than the promises of livestock and produce, was the promise of protection and victory in the wars against the kingdoms of Canaan. Moshe reminds us that in the same way that God brought Pharaoh to his knees, He can and will do the same with Canaanite kingdoms.

Moshe continues and says, “And the Lord, your God, will drive out those nations from before you, little by little. You will not be able to destroy them quickly, lest the beasts of the field outnumber you (7:22).”  The battle for Canaan will not be quick. Not because our enemies are too fierce, but rather, out of concern that if we conquer more land than we can settle, wild animals will overrun these conquered areas and pose a threat to the nearby inhabitants. What a strange statement? Moshe has just told the people that there is going to be Divine protection and intervention, and yet, now we are worried about the beasts of the field? The same God who can bend and manipulate the laws of nature can certainly keep the animals at bay. The same God who will instill fear into the hearts of the Canaanite soldiers could also instill fear within the animals causing them to retreat from before the Jewish people. How are we to understand this statement of Moshe?

The Modgitzer Rebbe (Rav Shaul Yedidyah Elazar of Modgitz) provides an amazing insight. When forced to fight, man must draw on his animalistic instincts. When forced to kill, man gives up (loses) some part of his humanity. Life often calls for such drastic measures. Wars must be waged for the needs of the nation and for the actualization of Jewish destiny. The soldier must be prepared to take the life of another if this is what the mission calls for. However, there is a reality that must be acknowledged. There is collateral damage on a personal level. After fighting a war, after taking a life – the soldier is no longer the same. Once those feelings and instincts that allowed one to kill have been unleashed it is not easy to simply bottle them up. This, explains the Rebbe, is the meaning of the pasuk. Why not just go to war with all of the Canaanite nations at once? Why will God drive them out ‘little by little’? To which God answers, “Pen tirbeh lecha chayas haSadeh (Llest the beasts of the field become too much upon you).”  The beasts to which the Torah refers are not the animals that inhabit the land of Israel – but rather, the animal that dwells within. God explains, “If I have you engage in constant fighting, constant bloodshed, constant war – the animal within will overwhelm you and can extinguish your humanity. Therefore, I will clear out the nations slowly – you will have to fight – but you will also have time to heal. The mission will be accomplished but at a slower pace to allow for the preservation of the Tzelem Elokim (the Divine Image) within each and every solider.” 

The Rebbe’s insight teaches us a valuable lesson. What we do, determines who we are. The actions we engage in – shape and mold our very character and essence. If we want to become good and holy people we must engage in good and holy behaviors. At times, we engage in certain activities that we know are detrimental (to our body or soul) but we convince ourselves that this action will not color who we are.  “Pen tirbeh alecha chayas haSadeh” – if we act like an animal, our inner animal will dominate and eclipse the beauty and holiness we possess within.

There are times when we must unleash the animal within, but we must have a plan to rein it in, assess the damage and create a space in which to repair and heal.

Our actions define us; our actions solidify our identity. Let us find the strength to make the right decisions and choices, but when we fall and when we fail, let us find the courage to rein in the beasts of the field.

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Parsha Perspectives: Vaeschanan-The Pain of Consolation

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“Nachamu Nachamu Ami – Be consoled, be consoled my people (Isaiah 40:1).”

We read these beautiful words of the prophet, Yeshayahu (Isaiah) on the Shabbos immediately following Tisha B’Av. When the fast ends we feel euphoric, excited and optimistic. But why? What is different? The Temple has not yet been rebuilt, anti-Semitism still exists and there is still in-fighting within our people. Why is this Shabbos a Shabbos of Consolation when nothing has seemingly changed?

Rav Ephraim Oshry (1914-2003) provides an amazing insight. Rav Oshry was the Rav of the Kovno Ghetto and answered many questions of halacha (Jewish law) throughout the war. He compiled these heartbreaking, yet inspiring responsa in a work titled, Responsa from the Depths. In his introduction to the third volume he raises an interesting question and provides an incredible insight and explanation. The Torah states:

“You shall remember what Amalek did to you on the way, when you went out of Egypt, how he happened upon you on the way and cut off all the stragglers at your rear, when you were faint and weary…Therefore, it will be, when the Lord, your God, grants you respite from all your enemies around [you] in the land which the Lord, your God, gives to you as an inheritance to possess, that you shall obliterate the remembrance of Amalek from beneath the heavens. You shall not forget! (Devorim 25:17-19).”

“Why must the Torah tell us to “remember” and “not forget”? Is this not redundant? God knew we would remember what Amalek (Rav Oshry relates historical Amalek to the Nazis) did to us. How can we not remember? The fire still burns, the pain is still acute. How can we not remember Auschwitz, the Ninth Fort, and Bergen Belsen? But the Torah explains, ‘when the Lord, your God, grants you respite from all your enemies….In the land which the Lord, your God, gives you as an inheritance to possess;’ God knows that we will rebuild. We will rebuild our families, we will rebuild our wealth, we will rebuild our people, and we will rebuild ourselves. And we will begin to think, why should we hold on to the pain of the past? Let the past be the past. What good does it do to hold on to the pain when all it does is hold me back and anchor us inour heartbreak? God knew that when life would once again become good and filled with happiness and accomplishment; we would try to forget our pain. Therefore, God commands, “You shall not forget.”  Even when life is beautiful – never forget your pain.”

But why not? After all, doesn’t there come a point in time when I must let go of the past in order to build a future? Doesn’t there come a point when I should unshackle myself from the heartbreak in order to feel joy? The Torah is teaching us an important lesson. The Jew never forgets or buries his pain – the Jew owns his pain. I look at my pain and I ask myself what can I learn about myself, my life and my world from this difficult situation. I own my pain and use it as a catalyst for growth. I own my pain and use its lessons as fuel for my engine of life productivity and meaning. “You Shall Remember,” is the natural reaction to pain when the wound is open, and the pain is clearly felt. But lest we think that at some point we need to forget to move on – God reminds us “You shall not forget.” Don’t try to bury, conceal or hide your pain – own it, learn and grow from it.

Perhaps, this is the consolation, the nechama (consolation) of Shabbos Nachamu.  On Tisha B’Av we allow ourselves to experience the crushing burden of 2,000 years of national and individual pain. At times throughout the day we feel as if our collective heart will burst from the sadness and despair. But then something amazing happens. We begin the process of owning our pain. We begin to learn from the tragedies. From our tears and sadness, we learn the need for compassion, empathy and unconditional love. From our heartbreak, we learn tolerance and respect. From our adversity, we learn that we are resilient, and can adapt and rebound from the most difficult of circumstances. From our loss, we learn that there is no greater force in nature than the Jewish soul. We take these powerful lessons and make them part of who we are. We own our pain and we recognize that nothing and no one can stop us from accomplishing our spiritual goals and aspirations. The moment we learn from our pain and realize that pain is the ultimate catalyst for growth, is the moment we begin to feel a wave of comfort. Those who own their pain are comforted by their pain.

I wish each of you a Shabbos of introspective consolation.

May we merit the ultimate consolation with the arrival of the Moshiach, speedily in our days, amen.

 

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Parsha Perspectives: Tisha B’Av – Impaired Vision

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This coming Sunday, we will observe the saddest and most traumatic day on our calendar: Tisha B’av (the 9th of the Hebrew month of Av). It is on this day that we remember the tragedies and catastrophes which have befallen our people over the last few thousand years. But the darkness and sadness of this day can be traced to one, singular episode: the Sin of the Spies. Despite the assurances of God and Moshe we felt compelled to scout out the Land of Israel. The spies came back, delivered their disastrous report, telling the nation that the land was simply unconquerable. These demoralizing words sent the people into a downward spiral. The nation cried, and it is here that the Talmud records a dramatic statement: “God said, ‘You have cried unnecessary tears, I will cause you to cry for many generations to come.” (Taanis 31) When did this report and Divine response occur? On the 9th of Av. It is the sin of the spies that created the tragic foundation for this difficult day. A foundation upon which tragedy has been layered over the last two thousand years. 

But did the punishment fit the crime? We as a nation certainly were ungrateful and lacked faith. But to condemn every Jew (over the age of 20) to death in the desert; to mark this day for ongoing tragedy, seems a bit disproportionate. Furthermore, the people tried to do teshuva (repent). The very next morning the Torah relates that the people arose early in the morning and ascended to the mountaintop, saying, “’We are ready to go up to the place of which the Lord spoke, for we have sinned.’ Moses said, ‘Why do you transgress the word of the Lord? It will not succeed. Do not go up, for the Lord is not among you, [so that] you will not be beaten by your enemies (Bamidbar 14:39-41).’” They acknowledged their mistake and tried to right the wrong, yet the punishment was still severe and swift. How are we to understand the nature of their mistake and the Divine reaction?

The Dubno Maggid (Rabbi Yaakov Kranz, 1740-1804) explains this dynamic with a mashal (parable). There was a fine young man who was known to be a Torah scholar with sterling middos (character traits) who was engaged to marry a young woman from a very wealthy family. One day, as the fathers were sitting down to discuss the financial arrangements for the upcoming wedding, the father of the bride told the father of the groom, “I am so happy our children are getting married, we will be happy to pay for the wedding. My only request is that you take care of outfitting your son for the wedding. But it is important that you buy him a suit of the finest materials.” To which the father of the groom responded, “My dear friend, I, too, share your excitement for the upcoming wedding of our children and I have much appreciation for your generosity. I am a man of virtually no means and while I can certainly afford a basic wardrobe for my son, I can’t purchase the type of clothing you are suggesting.” “Well if you can’t provide this one small part, then the wedding is off!” replied the father of the bride. And so, the beautiful match ended. A few months went by and the father of the bride regretted his hasty decision. The groom was such a fine young man with such refined character, how could he justify breaking off the nuptials over a suit. He contacted the father of the groom and voiced his desire to have their children marry.  “My dear friend,” replied the father of the groom, “my son is a very special young man who has much potential. Yet, you were willing to cast him aside because of a suit. Any family that would treat my son this way doesn’t truly appreciate who my son is. I no longer wish for my son to be a part of your family.”  

The Dubno Maggid explains, when the spies maligned the Land of Israel, it highlighted a fundamental lack of love and appreciation for the Land. This wasn’t simply a lack of proper judgment; this sin represented a fundamental lack of understanding of the preciousness and holiness of the Land. A mistake of this magnitude could not simply be remedied by attempting to march on the Land the next day, nor could it be remedied through a simple apology. It would take another forty years of nomadic existence to cultivate an appreciation for a home, for a land, for a destiny. The real sin of the spies was one of flawed perspective and outlook. All they saw were the problems; they failed see the beauty and good.  

Nothing in life is perfect. Everything and everyone has its strengths and weaknesses but if all we see is what is broken and wrong, we end up appreciating nothing. Many of us have struggles with which we must contend each and every day, but we must be careful that these struggles don’t obscure or eclipse our blessings. It is easy to lose oneself in the sadness and despair of difficult circumstances. We must always maintain a healthy disposition and recognize all the beautiful berachos and bounty we possess as well.  

This lesson has an important interpersonal ramification as well. There is an amazing Gemara.

“Rabbi Chiya’s wife was a difficult person. Yet, whenever he would come across a nice item, he would purchase it, wrap it and give it to his wife (as a gift). Rav (Rabbi Chiya’s student) observed this and said, ‘Rebbe, why are you doing this? We see how she often mistreats you.’ To which Rabbi Chiya responded, ‘It is enough (I have gratitude) that she raises the children (she is a wonderful mother) and saves me from sin’ (Yevamos 63a).”

Apparently, Rabbi Chiya didn’t have a story book marriage. There were complications. Yet, Rabbi Chiya chose to see the beautiful aspects of his wife’s personality. Rabbi Chiya realized that in life nothing and no one is perfect, and one must choose through which lens he will view others and the world. People wrong us, people hurt us, but we must learn how to see the positive aspects in the other. This is not just in marriage. The Rabbi Chiya standard must guide and inform all our interpersonal relationships.

Tisha B’Av is a day of tears for all that has been lost. We cry for the dreams which never materialized and for those we have lost and whose absence is acutely felt by our nation. Yet, we must remember that even on Tisha B’Av itself, the mourning practices lessen as the day progresses. Because after we cry and after we mourn, we must remind ourselves that all is not lost. We each have beautiful blessings, each of us are beautiful blessings. As we dry our tears, we pledge to ourselves that we will not lose ourselves in the abyss of sadness or despair. We will focus on that which is good. We will strain ourselves to see something beautiful and positive in every person and to actively take stock of our personal blessings. We won’t be spies, living life with a skewed perception. Perhaps, this is the merit we need. If we see the good in the other, ourselves and the world, maybe this will be the last Tisha B’Av marked with mourning.  

May we merit to see the coming of Moshiach, the rebuilding of the Beis HaMikdash and the drying of our tears.

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